


Abandoned Excerpts

by CharlieMads



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU - Freeform, Anal Sex, Bottom Will, First Kiss, Hannibal Loves Will, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sure there are loads more tags I should add, M/M, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Top Hannibal, Top Will, Will the Morally Grey, but is still messing with him in some of these, cause I was thinking why the hell not?, excerpts from abandoned fics, fluffy Hannibal, gratuitous Will!whump, one a/b/o, or is more usually realising that he wants to stop messing with him, possessive smut, two excerpts of bottom Hannibal, with omega Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMads/pseuds/CharlieMads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of excerpts from fics I've started and then given up on due to an extreme, recurring case of writers' block. Varying lengths, but with shared themes: Will hurt, Hannibal comfort and/or pure, unadulterated porn.</p><p>Plot synopses are included in the chapter notes so that the excerpts are not just hanging there without context.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyone Wants Something

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of schmoopy and fluffy. 
> 
> **Synopses:** Hannibal's plan for Will has deviated as he finds himself incredibly attracted and perhaps even in love with him. Will is aware of the other man's desire and this is the conversation that ensues when he makes that awareness known on the back of a run-in with Jack.

“Because everyone wants something from me, usually more than I’m willing or able to give.”

“Including myself?”

Will met Hannibal’s gaze for a long moment, feeling the weight and warmth of the psychiatrist’s hand on his shoulder like a brand.

“Even you,” he agreed, although his tone softened dramatically. “Because you want more from me than friendship.”

There was a pause then, a moment of silence in which neither man said anything. There was no denial from Hannibal, no rebuttal. The fire crackled softly in the fire-place. Somewhere from deep within the otherwise silent house a solitary chime marked the late hour. Will found himself torn between an overwhelming sense of relief and a level of social anxiety he usually did his utmost to avoid.

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal offered eventually, “I had thought that with your self-admitted inability to read me, my feelings would remain unknown. I can only apologise for any discomfort I may have inadvertently caused.”

Yet still, even with the apology and overtly contrite expression – as overt as any of Hannibal’s expressions ever were - his touch remained sure and steady. Will dropped his gaze to the pattern of Hannibal’s tie, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I said I found you difficult to read, not impossible,” 

Another beat of silence preceded Hannibal taking a delicate step forward, lessening the stretch of his arm to remain in contact with Will. When he spoke, his voice was softer, intensifying the intimacy of his sphere of influence on the younger man without physically crowding him.

“May I ask which it is?”

Will frowned slightly, confusion marring his brow as he glanced up and found himself drawn to the other man’s eyes. Flame and shadow danced across the unusual colour of his irises, over the inky darkness of pupils that in that moment had the capacity to swallow him whole. 

“What?”

“You said that others often desire things from you that you are unable or unwilling to give,” Hannibal clarified lowly, hand slowly and carefully drifting upwards from Will’s shoulder to rest gently on the side of his neck. “Which category does my desire for your affections fall in to?”

The profiler swallowed thickly, the faint click caused by the sudden dryness over-taking his mouth palpable beneath Hannibal’s touch. Will supressed a shiver as he felt a thumb lightly smooth back and forth over skin and stubble just below his jaw and blue eyes searched maroon, although he was uncertain what exactly he was searching for.

“Not unwilling,” Will confessed quietly and swallowed again, forcibly averting his gaze, “I just…I’m not what you need or deserve. You’d tire of me, my instability, eventually. When you realised that even you can’t fix me.”

Will would never be certain of when Hannibal moved following his admission, but in the blink of an eye, a single beat of his heart, there were lips warm and smooth against his own. The kiss was sweet and soft, delicate but not chaste. Will’s eyes slid closed and he inhaled through his nose at the repeated brush of wine-flavoured lips over his own, heart thudding in his chest.

“I have no need or desire for you to be anything different to who and what you are,” Hannibal intoned with a painfully soft reverence as he pulled back, touching his tongue to his bottom lip to taste the younger man there. The hand on Will’s neck advanced further, long fingers gently threading into the curls at the back of his neck when the other man made no move to pull away from their shared space. “There is nothing about you that I do not find exquisite in nature. You don’t need ‘fixing’, Will, merely someone that can see and appreciate you for the person you are,”

The sincerity in the psychiatrist’s words was near painful. The barely concealed adoration in both the tone of his voice and the depths of his gaze worse as Will searched his face by the light of the fire. He was vaguely aware of his pulse racing as Hannibal calmly endured his scrutiny, delicately carded his fingertips through the hair at Will’s nape. He was excruciatingly aware of the electricity between them.

Allowing some of what he felt for the other man to bleed through into his gaze, Hannibal waited, hoped that Will would see his words for the truth that they were. Perhaps, at the start, his designs for Will had been very different; the prospect of breaking the younger man had enticed him with the distraction it offered from the banal and the mundane. But Will had so effortlessly insinuated himself into his affections, drawn a warmth and desire from within him in a way that no one else had ever achieved. What had begun as distraction had quickly metamorphosed to fascination, which in turn had rapidly given way to a genuine need for the younger man in every possible capacity.  
As the seconds ticked by, Hannibal felt his hopes and heart sink. When Will closed his eyes again and exhaled heavily, the older man cleared his throat and took a pre-emptive step back.

“Forgive me –“

Hand quickly darting out, Will fisted his fingers in the rich fabric of Hannibal’s vest at the same time that he took a large step forward to close the new distance between them. Toe to toe, whatever the other man had been about to say was lost to a murmur of surprised approval as Will moulded their lips together again.


	2. Possessiveness - Part One (Explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn Ahoy.
> 
> **Synopses:** Hannibal is feeling extremely possessive following grocery shopping. Will responds positively.

Pressing his lips firmly to Will’s, Hannibal tried to tamp down on the irrational levels of possessiveness that continued to surge. There was a fierce desire burning inside of him to claim, to mark the younger man, that far exceeded what he normally experienced, although there was no desire to hurt him or inflict permanent damage. It manifested itself as a need that trilled through his veins, sharp and unrelenting, and left him almost instantly hard within the confines of his pants. Gripping Will’s hips tightly, he pulled him flush against his body, his tongue probing the seam of the younger man’s mouth more of a demand than a request. One that Will acquiesced to readily, welcoming the warm invasion with a soft groan and his hands gripping the fabric of Hannibal’s vest.

Will dissolved into the kiss, mind going wonderfully blank as Hannibal hungrily plundered his mouth, the psychiatrist’s tongue deliciously slip-sliding over his own with barely controlled lust. A hand slid from his hip to clutch and knead his behind, the other ascending to fist in his dark hair and then Hannibal was pulling away from his mouth, tilting Will’s head back and latching on to the soft skin of his throat to repeatedly nip and suck and leave him gasping.

“Hannibal…”

The older man pulled back just slightly, admiring the stripe of red marks left behind on Will’s skin. Those closest to the hollow where neck met chest were dark – dark enough to assure him that they would bruise and remain visible for several days. The others moving up towards his adams apple were lighter, would most likely only remain for a few hours at most, but were equally as pleasing in the moment. It appeased some of the covetous urges clawing at him, at least partially.

Raising his gaze, Hannibal stared in to Will’s eyes and noted with satisfaction that his lover was already beginning to look lost in a haze of need, his pupils gradually expanding to consume blue. He removed his hand from his hair then reached between them and pressed his warm palm to Will’s groin, cupping the outline of his erection and stroking him through his jeans with the slightest hint of roughness. The younger man eagerly, greedily, pushed his hips forward into the touch, grabbed Hannibal’s shoulders and pulled him in to kiss him with an intensity that almost made the older man spin him around and bend him over the kitchen counter there and then.

“Bedroom,” Hannibal all but growled, the word rumbling through his chest as he took a deep breath, “Now,”


	3. Possessiveness - Part 2 (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the possessive porn.
> 
> **Synopses:** They've done way more than just take their clothes off...

As the last tremors eased through his body, Will hooked his legs around Hannibal’s waist, digging his heels into the flesh of his backside and angling his lower body up off the bed. Hannibal captured his lips in a bruising kiss at the change in position, his fingers tightening involuntarily around Will’s wrists still held firmly in his grasp above the younger man’s head, and a low groan of pleasure escaping into his lover’s mouth. Braced on one arm, the muscles in his shoulders bunched and quivered in response to the need rolling through him, the way that Will began to suddenly move again in counterpoint to his thrusts and deliberately tightened around his cock. His impending orgasm was tangible, his mind filled with a hazy chant of mine, mine, mine, as his hips snapped forward again and again, raw and primal. Will’s tongue pushed its way into his mouth and he allowed it, welcomed it as it mimicked their joining, moving deep and hard over the contours of his mouth.

Will studied Hannibal’s face as he kissed him, the older man’s mask thoroughly destroyed to leave his expression arousingly open. His fringe had fallen over his eyes, ashen hair and tanned skin damp with sweat and the fine lines around his eyes and mouth creased with hunger and want. It was a look Will would never tire of seeing on features that were normally so well-schooled, even in the sanctity of the older man’s bedroom. Granted, Hannibal let much show in Will’s presence, more than either of them had ever thought he would, but there were still times when the younger man knew he was holding back. And now Will had a fairly good idea why, Hannibal having obviously feared that the deep-seated possessive, near feral nature of his feelings for the younger man would be too much for him to accept or understand. Arching against the older man as he was rocked with sharp thrusts, Will resolved to let Hannibal know exactly how appreciated the sentiments were. Apparently sensing his scrutiny, Hannibal’s eyes opened to meet his gaze, maroon barely visible around blown, dark pupils that shone with unfettered lust and passion and hunger. Will wanted to drown in them, could feel his own cock twitch with interest despite the two orgasms that had already been mercilessly pulled from his body. He nipped at Hannibal’s bottom lip sharply before pulling back from his mouth, eyes never leaving those of the older man.

“Fuck, yes, own me,” Will panted softly, watching as the last two words had their desired effect. Hannibal all but growled, the sound heady and dark, and Will’s wrists were instantly released. The older man wrapped his arm around his back at the waist instead, long fingers digging into Will’s hip almost painfully as Hannibal anchored them together and pushed in to him harder, faster. Will moaned, brought his newly freed hands to Hannibal’s shoulders and ran blunt nails firmly over the expanse of his back in encouragement. “C’mon baby, I want to feel it. Come inside me.”

Later, Hannibal would marvel once again at the depth of empathy the younger man possessed, but   
in that moment all he could think about was doing exactly as Will asked, of finding completion deep inside his willing body. Of owning him so completely that Will could never belong to anyone else. His cock actually ached, balls tight to his body as he moved, Will using his legs and feet to pull him impossibly deep with each forceful drive forward. He dropped his head with a guttural moan, hair brushing against Will’s cheek as he harshly mouthed at the sublimely soft skin of the younger man’s neck and shoulder, pressed his teeth into the juncture where they met hard enough to leave a mark that complimented the sucking bruises in the hollow of the other man’s throat and would last just as long. Will gasped at the sharp, blossoming pain, but didn’t resist, simply tilting his head to allow the doctor room to mark him. Once satisfied, Hannibal swiped his tongue over the bruising bite, the faintest hint of iron touching his palate, then trailed his lips up to Will’s ear. 

“Jūs. Esate. Mano,” he murmured thickly, his breath hot gasps against skin and shifting so that each word was punctuated by his cock hitting Will’s prostate, otherwise neglected since his last climax. “Jūs. Priklausote. Mane,”

He pulled back to look at his lover, finding the younger man’s lips parted in pleasure and an intense depth of emotion in the dark blue of his eyes.

“Always,” Will breathed reverently, reaching up to tangle the fingers of one hand tightly in Hannibal’s hair and tugging slightly. The other scored a red, lasting channel from his shoulder to iliac crest. “Fuck, always…”

Hannibal hadn’t expected an answer, although he was well aware that Will would be able to at least extrapolate sentiment from the tone of his voice. It was simultaneously enough and too much, the coil of pleasure at the base of his spine tightening impossibly and his rhythm faltering in response. With one final, sharp snap of his hips, white-hot pleasure shot up his spine, and he was coming, coming, pressing into the body beneath him almost violently as he emptied in to Will. 

Using the hand in Hannibal’s hair to crush their mouths together and roughly kiss him as he stiffened, Will swallowed the harsh groans pulled from the older man’s throat as his orgasm ripped through him. He was still for only a moment before he began to move again and Will went with him, purposefully rolling his hips as Hannibal fucked himself out within his tight heat. The profiler felt himself begin to harden between them and almost laughed, would have were it not for the fact that Hannibal coming was a huge turn-on for him. Everything, from the sounds of completion that he couldn’t hold back, to the look on his face, to the sheer feel of his body over him and the wet heat inside of him, conspired to leave Will more than half hard.

Eventually the movement of Hannibal’s hips gradually slowed and shallowed as he came down the other side, pulling his arm out from under Will to ease them both to the bed but not withdrawing from his body. Will hummed contentedly, enjoyed the firm caress of the older man’s tongue against his as the contact of mouths became mutual in the aftermath and Hannibal reached up to stroke his fingers over his cheek and jaw. They breathed in tandem, just the occasional mistime occurring when Will would unconsciously clench around Hannibal’s spent cock, the older man lightly jerking into him in response; sensation bordered on over-stimulation as he softened, but Hannibal revelled in it. He draped himself over Will completely, pressing him in to the bed. Moved from kissing his lips to his jaw, his throat, along his collarbone, then pressed his face into the crook of Will’s neck and inhaled. The younger man’s fingers traced intricate patterns over sweat-cooled skin, dipping into the hollows between all the muscles of Hannibal’s shoulders and back. For long moments they simply existed, heart rates settling and heaving chests slowing.


	4. Suicide Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for attempted suicide.
> 
> **Synopses:** Will discovers Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper but not before falling in love with him and entering into a physical relationship. He manages to hide the knowledge from Hannibal and at the first opportunity attempts suicide; not because of what Hannibal is, but because he still loves him anyway. Will can't live with how that reflects on him.

“I heard your voice, in my dream,” he states ever so softly. “You stabbed me with love in your eyes. Told me not to fight, that you didn’t want me to feel pain. That it would be like slipping into a warm bath. I thought it would feel like the quiet of the stream…”

In that second, as Will’s voice drifts away and his eyes droop, Hannibal realises his immediate mistake and the bottom threatens to fall out of his world. He’s across the room in four strides, dropping to his knees in front of the profiler, swiftly disarming him and then pocketing the gun that had made him keep his distance before taking his face between his hands. Will’s chin dips towards his chest and the older man gently tilts his head up, thumbs rubbing over the line of both cheekbones as bleary eyes move sluggishly to focus on him.

“What have you done, Will?” Hannibal asks, equally as softly, but there’s tension in the set of his jaw and fear crawling up his throat threatening to choke him. He’s not sure if Will doesn’t answer because he won’t or because he’s reaching a point where he no longer can. The sudden, crippling vice around his heart manifests itself in the way that he briefly jostles and shakes the other man, in the way his voice hardens to a demand. “Will!”

Will blinks sleepily, his head now a heavy weight.

“Pills…”

Hannibal glances down at the movement in his peripheral vision, one of Will’s hands slowly uncurling in his lap to reveal an apparently empty dispensary bottle. Aspirin. The irony is not lost on him. He knows from the way that Will is slipping away that it’s been some time, but he asks the question all the same as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell-phone.

“How long ago did you take them?”

Will minutely shakes his head in Hannibal’s grip, gives a tiny, broken huff of a laugh that morphs into a low moan of pain and anguish in the space of a heartbeat. 

Waiting for the 911 operator to connect his call, the older man wants to rage, wants to destroy, even as the vice in his chest tightens and he finds himself swallowing around an obstruction in his throat. The only rational thought occupying his mind is to save, to protect, a hand stroking soothingly over Will’s stubble, fingers threading into his hair to support his head as he tersely gives his name and medical licence number.


	5. Bottom Hannibal - Part 1 (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some porn to forget the previous excerpt's angst.
> 
> **Synopses:** This could be considered post-WotL although I initially began it prior to the end of season 3. Hannibal has been unusually assailed with musings of his past that leave him in need. Will wants to help, he just has to get Hannibal to accept it.

“Mischa…”

Hannibal arches against him slightly in response to the weight of Will’s body over his own, eyes dark as they unflinchingly bore into the younger man’s blue gaze.

“The past,” he corrects softly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as Will’s calloused fingers skim down his body between them before lightly wrapping around his erection. Mischa is of course part of that past, but for once she is not the sole cause of the hollowness that has taken residence in his chest. Will understands the distinction, overcome with a desire to soothe the pain that he can see in dark maroon, that threatens to become his own the longer he looks. It’s that which spurs him to lean down and kiss Hannibal again, gently pressing parted lips to the full curve of his mouth in an effort to detract from his own empathy, because this isn’t about him. Hannibal sighs into the contact, willingly submits, his fingers digging in to Will’s hips in a familiar gesture of need and want as the kiss deepens and intensifies until his lips tingle and they’re both breathless.

Will slowly strokes him, his fingers tightening around the heavy heat of Hannibal’s erection as their tongues slide and curl over and against each other and he maps for the hundredth – perhaps the thousandth - time every contour of the other man’s mouth. There is no urgency, no sharp, unyielding arousal that needs to be satiated now, now, now. Instead, the burn in his veins is a slowly rising simmer fuelled by the depth of love and affection he feels for a man that he should by all rights despise. Will acknowledged long ago that he couldn’t be further from hatred for Hannibal if he tried; the love they have for each other is a brightly burning paradox that neither man will ever consentingly let go. Not without bloodshed at least. It’s a thought that should scare the life out of him, sicken him, but if anything it has always simply left Will feeling comforted and reassured. 

“Have you ever…?” Will asks quietly when he finally pulls back from the other man’s mouth, unconsciously licking his taste from reddened lips. Hannibal’s hands momentarily still before recommencing their movement over the planes of Will’s back that had begun mid-kiss, and that in and of itself is an answer.

“Not of my own volition. And not for a very long time,”

It’s a simple statement of fact. Hannibal is not a traumatised child any longer, peace made with his past many years ago in a way that Will almost envies – not so much the way he found that peace, but in his ability to let go of things that no longer serve a purpose. Most things at least. In his mind he sees a vision of Hannibal as a mute, slip of an eleven year old boy, wearing nothing but a feral, blood-stained smile. He hears the sound of a grown man howling in agony, the screams a lament for the loss of part of his cock. Relief settles in the profiler’s gut to know that he was never touched against his will again.

Will doesn’t do Hannibal the disservice of asking if he’s sure this is what he wants, instead he nips lightly at the other man’s bottom lip then sensuously slides from his body to sit at the edge of the bed and open the nightstand. Hannibal is rolling on to his side with the intention of prostrating himself as Will turns back. He reaches out to stop him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“No.” 

Hannibal says nothing, but his eyes are burning coals at the challenge and he wordlessly goes to move again, only to find the younger man’s hand shooting out to wrap firmly around his wrist to restrain him. There’s a tense moment of stand-off as Will climbs back on to the bed, still tightly gripping the other man’s wrist as he shifts to straddle Hannibal’s waist. Hannibal’s expression cools as their gazes meet, verging on blank, like a shark circling in shallow waters, and it’s a true reflection of just how far he is from his usual self that the monster is so close to the surface. 

Rightly or wrongly, Will is not afraid.

“Trust me, Hannibal. I’ll give you what you need,” he offers quietly, loosening his grip on him but not relinquishing it completely. His thumb gently rubs at the joint as he leans down to kiss him once more. Understanding laces his words, a promise and reassurance contained within. He doesn’t verbalise that it will be on his terms, he doesn’t need to. That’s the point. 

Will has lost count of the number of times he’s relied on Hannibal bringing him back from the brink. The older man is able to read Will in ways that no one else has ever attempted, let alone achieved, and it’s something that the profiler finds himself immensely grateful for. The first time he had returned to Hannibal’s home with a darkness not his own lingering at the forefront of his mind, he had begged to be fucked and abused until he was bloody and raw and wounded. Hannibal had made as if to comply, tied him to the bed and then taken him apart so gently, so completely, and with such reverence and tenderness despite the younger man’s snarled curses, that returned to himself Will had shed tears in the aftermath. He has never imagined the roles being reversed, that Hannibal would be the one in need of grounding, but that’s what this is. And he can’t deny that the thought of being buried inside Hannibal, of having the other man spread open and wanting beneath him, is profoundly exciting despite the circumstances.

Acquiescence, acceptance of what’s being offered, comes with fingers tangling in Will’s curls as the younger man patiently shifts the attention of his wet mouth from Hannibal’s lips and tongue, over the line of his jaw and down the column of his neck to the hollow at the base of his throat. Will sucks hard at the ridge of tendon to one side as he strokes his left hand up from the older man’s wrist to his shoulder. He smoothes that same hand over a toned pectoral to seek out and pinch a pert nipple between the nails of his thumb and forefinger, sucks harder, and Hannibal inhales softly. The difference in cadence is clearly audible to Will, the sound an indication that he does indeed know what the other man needs as he pulls back to admire the livid red mark left upon the smooth skin of his throat.


	6. Bottom Hannibal - Part 2 (Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Bottom Hannibal appreciation chapter.

Will wraps an arm around Hannibal’s chest and pulls as he leans backwards, tugging until they’re upright and Hannibal’s sweat-slick back is fully pressed against him. He barely pauses for breath before tersely snapping his hips again and draws a groan from the older man as the action places the perfect pressure against his prostate. Will’s hand travels upwards and curls around his throat, Hannibal tipping his head back against his lover’s shoulder at the weighted sensation of his breath being restricted slightly. When he feels him swallow beneath his palm, adams apple bobbing against his skin, Will tightens his grip just a little more and thrusts into him again.

“You like my hand around your throat,” Will breathes out against the shell of the other man’s ear. The revelation is both surprising and not. Hannibal reaches up and places his own hand over the younger man’s, encourages him to press a little harder.

“Yes…” he agrees, breath catching as Will sets a slow, staccato rhythm to the movement of his hips, of his cock sliding in and out of his body. The friction is almost overwhelming, each thrust filling him completely, touching him in all the right places, and the ache in his loins is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Without conscious thought Hannibal spreads his thighs wider apart, as wide as they will go, feeling the stretch in his hips in counterpoint to the beautiful stretch of Will inside him. “Please, Will…”

“Do you have any idea how you look like this?” Will replies, deliberately choosing to ignore the closest thing to a plea he expects he’ll ever hear Hannibal utter. He presses his stubbled cheek against that of the other man, watching them reflected in the mirror opposite the bed. “Open your eyes,”

For a moment he thinks that Hannibal is not going to, but then he’s treated to a heavy-lidded maroon gaze meeting his eyes in the mirror. The blankness of earlier is nearly gone now, chased away by unending sensation. Will strokes his free hand over the tense muscles of Hannibal’s stomach and then gradually lower as the older man watches, finally wrapping his fist around the straining flesh of his erection and tugging firmly. Hannibal’s hips stutter into the contact, a soft gasp leaving parted lips but his eyes remaining open. He can see the older man appraising the image they paint.

“You’re a beautiful man as it is, but like this? You’re a vision.”

And he is as Will continues to thrust inside his exquisitely tight heat, watching every nuance of expression on Hannibal’s face as he spirals higher in response to the younger man’s hand now diligently stroking him towards much needed completion. His hair has fallen over his forehead, eyes heavy with need and lips an attractive shade of bitten red to match the flush across high cheekbones. It’s a blush that also paints the long line of his throat, exposed by the way his head is tipped back to rest against his lover’s shoulder as Will continues to gently squeeze there, and the colour has slowly spread to cover the toned muscles of his chest. Will finds his gaze drawn to the other man’s impressive erection jutting harshly out from his damp body, the glow of the wall lights glinting off the streaks of precum coating his length and Will’s hand as he skilfully works him.

“Tell me what you need, Hannibal,” Will murmurs breathlessly between soft kisses pressed against the older man’s cheek.

“Prasom, harder,”

Will nips at the line of his jaw, breath hot against his skin.

“That’s what you want,” he admonishes softly, “Tell me what you need…”

A short, low sound escapes the back of Hannibal’s throat as Will obliges all the same, pushes into him harder, faster and tightens his fingers around his cock. He knows he will pay for this at some point in the future, when Hannibal has come up with a punishment fitting for the blatantly excessive dominance Will’s exhibiting over him. But now that the older man has almost wholly returned to himself, the temptation to exploit the situation is impossible to ignore. His thoughts are confirmed when Hannibal all but growls even as his hips move and he fucks once into the tight circle of Will’s fist.

“Make me come. I need to come,” Hannibal pants out, hard groans punctuating each sentence as his back arches under the continuing slew of stimulation. It’s Will’s turn to moan then, the slight shift in position sending a jolt through his body that has his own orgasm careening closer.

Moving swiftly, Will presses him forward, hand splaying between his shoulder blades to get him on his hands and knees. He can feel the tension rising in Hannibal’s body, muscles drawing taut as he strains for the release he craves. Will drapes himself over the older man’s back, bracing against the bed with an arm planted in parallel to Hannibal’s own and driving into him with relentlessly hard and fast movements. The man beneath him alternates between pushing back to meet his movements and surging his hips forward to fuck into Will’s fist on his cock, breath coming in short gasps coloured with deep groans of pleasure. Will knows he’s close, knows that every sensation is magnified.

“Will, please…” Hannibal falters in his movements but doesn’t stop, back arching, hips tilting up more and spreading his thighs apart as wide as he can. The shift has Will rubbing even more firmly against his prostate which in turn has Hannibal tightening around his lover’s cock. 

“Fuck, yes, c’mon baby. Come for me…” Will pants into his ear. Hannibal spread for him like this is probably the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced and the thought that any moment now Hannibal is going to come and come hard makes him almost want to whine. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”


	7. Shot Will - Full first Chapter (scene-setting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the full first chapter of a fic that I desperately would love to read.
> 
> **Synopses:** The summary of this excerpt is that Will and Hannibal are in an established relationship. The summary of the rest of the fic is that in the course of an investigation, Will attracts the attention of (another) serial killer and is eventually shot at a crime scene. Good job there's a former trauma surgeon on hand to save his life.

Reluctantly opening his eyes, Will shifted infinitesimally against malleable warmth, breathed in the enticingly welcome hints of spice and musk beneath his cheek. The light of a spring dawn was creeping in through the drapes, accenting shades of blue with its golden and orange highlights as it cut a narrow path to where he lay, and he felt pleasantly lax, loose-limbed, even though tiredness buzzed at the back of his brain, an itch that he’d hoped to metaphorically scratch away long before waking.

Coming to in Hannibal’s bed was something Will Graham was certain he would never grow tired of. Coming to in Hannibal’s bed, at some godforsakenly early hour of the morning, to the irritating strains of the ringtone dirge Beverly had assigned to Jack on his cellphone? Not so much so.

An arm tightened with reflexive possession around his waist, pulled him in close even as he groaned and stretched out to reach over the man embracing him and fumble for his phone as it threatened to vibrate off Hannibal’s nightstand to land on the floor. Wearily pulling it to his ear and thumbing the touchscreen to accept the call, Will settled back down against the heat of his lover’s chest and tried not to shiver as sleep-heavy fingers traced a path up over the knots of his spine.

“Graham,” he mumbled, supressing a yawn. Hannibal’s hand reached the top of his thoracic vertebra, long fingers carefully threading in to the hair at the nape of his neck and Will was aware of the other man’s nose nudging his curls, habitually breathing in his scent as he awoke. There was a long moment of silence as Will listened to Jack, the morning wake-up devoid of any sort of pleasantries. That, in and of itself, was neither unusual nor unanticipated.

“Where?”

Will unconsciously rubbed his stubbled cheek against the soft feel of the other man’s chest hair as deft fingers began to sensually move back down his spine, threw a bare leg over Hannibal’s hip and found the evidence of his morning erection pressed against the inside of his thigh through the cotton of his pyjama pants. Pushing up from the older man’s chest slightly, Will tilted his head and sought out Hannibal’s gaze.

Maroon meeting blue, Hannibal let his lips settle into a gentle smile. He knew that his heavy-lidded eyes were communicating something else entirely as he slipped his other hand beneath the covers and firmly drew a slightly calloused palm along the outside of Will’s leg. He trailed it up over his thigh, his hip, made sure to graze just under the fabric of his shorts as he did so, then kneaded the firm flesh of his behind. He watched as Will’s eyes darkened slightly, the way a hint of pink tongue darted out against his lower lip, welcoming the younger man’s early-morning scrutiny and carrying out his own.

There was something about Will first thing in the morning that aroused him beyond reason. Eyes heavy, features soft with sleep, he was a veritable vision with his untamed curls. It made Hannibal ache to wake up next to the younger man, made their nights apart all the more unpleasant for knowing that he would be alone when he rose the following morning. The recent run of murders that Jack Crawford had Will profiling had kept them from sharing a bed for far too many nights already of late; the only thing that had stopped Hannibal from pinning the younger man to the mattress and fucking him senseless just a few short hours previously had been the bone-deep fatigue lining his face when he had crept into Hannibal’s home and all but crawled into bed beside him. Knowing that Jack was calling Will away again now, he was determined to leave the younger man with pleasant memories to ease him through what was sure to be another long and mentally trying day. Sating his own irrepressible desires when in the other’s company was secondary in a way that he had never imagined possible until the profiler had entered his life.  
Smoothly pressing upwards, Hannibal cupped the back of Will’s neck as the younger man made a non-committal noise in response to whatever information Jack was imparting and allowed himself to be rolled until he was pinned underneath his lover’s not insubstantial weight. And then Hannibal’s hands were skimming up his sides and his soft, moist lips were pressed to the skin of Will’s throat causing him to tip his head back and audibly swallow as the psychiatrist gently rolled his hips against the younger man’s own awakening erection. Graham closed his eyes for a second, licked his lips.

“Yeah, I’m still here…” Will fixed his gaze to Hannibal’s as the older man braced himself over him and gave him a seductively dark, obviously hungry stare, fringe falling in to his eyes. “…Westminster’s an hour and a half from Wolf Trap, I’ll be with you in a couple of hours.”

The younger man rang off just in time to prevent the choked moan that escaped his lips from travelling down the phone line, Hannibal’s talented mouth blazing a hot trail from his ear to collarbone as he languidly rutted against Will. The psychiatrist plucked the phone from his fingers, reached out a long arm to deposit it back on the nightstand, then focussed all of his attention on the man beneath him.

“Another body,” Hannibal stated, accent thick from slumber.

Will nodded, reaching up to run his fingers through Hannibal’s wonderfully sleep-tousled ashen hair, then used a hand at the back of his neck to draw their mouths together and kiss him softly. The older man closed his eyes and hummed against his lips, only to then slowly lick his way inside Will’s mouth and swallow the soft noise of appreciation the other man made as his tongue delicately tangled with Will’s. A moment later it was stroking along the roof of his mouth and tracing the smooth line of his teeth.

“I’m beginning to worry about the company you’re keeping. You lied to Jack,” he offered slightly breathlessly when they finally separated, tone serious but humour evident in the slight quirk of his lips and a glint in his eyes. Will craned his neck to press his mouth to the strong line of Hannibal’s jaw, lazily nipped his way to a spot just under his right ear as his hands drifted down the well-defined planes of the older man’s back. They slipped easily beneath striped cotton to grip his hips and urge him up until Will could move beneath him, parting his legs and bending them so that the two men were even more intimately pressed together, Hannibal’s lower body bracketed by Will’s thighs.

“Sin of omission, I didn’t say I was in Wolf Trap,” Will muttered playfully against his throat, then continued more seriously, “And it’s not exactly the first time I’ve kept something from Jack. I know it won’t be the last.”

Will lay his head back against the pillow as he spoke and used his hands to anchor Hannibal to him. He squeezed the firm muscles of his ass to encourage movement and received a painstakingly slow roll of Hannibal’s hips in response.

The lies he had told Jack since he’d fallen in to Hannibal’s bed, be they sins of omission or outright distortions, no longer weighed heavily on Will’s conscience. Hadn’t for some time. Expecting to meet a gory end, when Hannibal had let him turn tail and run on realising he was the Chesapeake Ripper, allowed him time to digest the frightening but strangely unsurprising revelation with the help of several bottles of whisky, Will had known he was lost. Accepting that he had fallen in love with a serial killer, one who had plagued his dreams for months, had taken time as his mind opened to the obvious manipulations that had occurred since he’d known Hannibal – far longer than the three days’ grace the older man had given him before appearing at his door. Wrapping his hands tightly around his throat and squeezing, pressing Hannibal hard against the wall, Will had drunkenly stared into his gaze and clearly seen the monster beneath the man. He’d looked for remorse, for guilt, maybe even fear, but knew he would find none. Instead, he’d found faith and fire and a depth of love that had shaken him, Hannibal’s hands calmly resting by his sides as he opened his mind to Will’s talent and allowed the younger man to see the dark constructs that resided within his soul. The slow crushing of his throat had somehow become the fierce crush of a desperate, hungry embrace on both their parts, and anger had moved towards uncertainty tinged with relief. 

No matter what Will had aimed at the doctor that night - the goading, the curses – all he had received in return was patience and the tenderest of touches. Hannibal had taken him with a newfound honesty that had stripped Will bare, made love to him in the truest sense of the words without a hint of manipulation or ulterior motive, and the younger man had finally felt his fear; not the fear that Will had been looking for as he’d strangled him, but the fear that Will, the only person who had the ability to understand him completely, might be forever lost to Hannibal.

"I’m rather fond of the company I keep,” Will added quietly but with true meaning, exhaling as his lover dipped his head to press open-mouthed kisses to the base of his throat, a manicured thumbnail teasingly scraping over one of his nipples. “I've missed you,"

His words drew Hannibal back up to look at him, planting soft kisses over his skin as he did so until they were nose to nose, breath warm against Will’s lips and the force of tenderness and affection in his gaze warming other parts of him.

“And I you, Will,” he stated softly.

For a second Will basked in the rush of endorphins his reply brought, only to frown as Hannibal’s gaze fell away, the veiled expression on his face suddenly unfamiliar and one not readily accessible to the younger man.

“Hey,” he started with concern, bringing a hand to Hannibal’s cheek and coaxing him to look up. Making and maintaining eye contact was his issue, not something that ever affected the psychiatrist. “What is it?”

Hannibal licked his lips once before acquiescing to the gentle touch against his face, meeting Will’s worried eyes with openness in his own. The vulnerability he felt in that moment was unfamiliar but the older man didn’t shy away from it as he felt his heart rate increase by the smallest fraction, instead embracing the unusual but not unknown manifestation of emotion within his body. It never ceased to surprise him, the overtly normal, human responses the man beneath him managed to elicit. 

“Perhaps you’ll think me foolish, but I...yearn for you in your absence.”

Will simply looked at him for a moment and Hannibal wondered whether honesty was ever truly the best policy at all. Right up until Will threaded his fingers tightly in the older man’s hair and pulled him down to kiss him with something that felt like desperation, but tasted like pure exhilaration and joy.

**********

Will padded barefoot through the dining room and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, the rich scents of artisan coffee and frying meat a perfect accompaniment to the sight of Hannibal stood by the hob sans jacket and with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He didn’t linger long, but couldn’t help a brief pause to enjoy the warm pull of domesticity that always rolled through him at the sight of the older man making breakfast. There was a heady rush associated with the easy way they had integrated into each other’s lives despite their obvious differences, the way that they so seamlessly occupied shared space. It tugged at something in Will, a longing that was proving harder and harder to ignore but came with its own issues.

Crossing the room, he returned the soft smile Hannibal offered him as he glanced up from his pan at his approach, and rounded the stainless steel island to retrieve the glass mug of coffee already waiting for him. Briefly inspecting what Hannibal was doing, he pressed himself against his side, welcoming the strong forearm that snaked around his waist as the psychiatrist turned his head to capture his lips and they shared a lazy, lingering kiss.

“Mmm, smells good,” Will said, noting with a rush of dichotomous feelings - ones that he steadfastly chose to ignore - that the bacon this morning was indeed bacon. The hand on his hip tightening, he felt the older man’s nose brush the sensitive skin of his neck before releasing him to return both hands to preparing their food.

“Yes, you do,” Hannibal murmured as he withdrew, smirking slightly as he thoroughly enjoyed the faintly warm, shower-fresh scent emanating from his lover.

Will felt a hint of warmth spread across his cheeks, marvelled that such simple words could still have such an effect on him after the months they’d spent together both before and after he’d discovered the bacon was not necessarily pork. Smiling to himself, he turned and leant back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankle as he took a slow, satisfying mouthful of his drink. The blend was his favourite, rich and particularly dark, with a hint of smokiness strong enough to survive the spoonful of sugar he habitually added and enough caffeine to find consciousness halfway through a second cup. He’d already found consciousness this morning in an even more pleasurable manner, a sweet, deep ache remaining to remind him of Hannibal fervently burying himself within his body, but the coffee would help to cut through the lingering haze – Jack would want him sharp and focused for whatever was waiting for him in Westminster.

The thought sobered his mood as he contemplated another day trying to connect with their current killer.

“Are you still having difficulty seeing this killer’s design?”

Artfully completing the two plates, Hannibal straightened and reached for a towel, wiping his hands before removing his apron and folding it carefully. Will retrieved the older man’s coffee in his free hand and followed as Hannibal carried breakfast through to the dining room. 

“I see glimpses, like fragments of stained glass, but I’m unable to put them back together to form an image,” Will took his customary seat opposite Hannibal. “He’s careful, meticulous in his preparation, but his work isn’t cold. There’s passion in what he does,”

“For the kill?”

Will shook his head, keen mind already seeing the possible parallel the older man was looking to negate. Hannibal was careful, meticulous, impassioned, and Will had struggled to see him despite the fact that they were sleeping together at the time.

“Passion for his victims, they’re more than pigs to him,” he explained, a knowing half-smile touching his lips. Hannibal inclined his head slightly at being caught, his own mouth quirking with wry humour, and raised his fork to his mouth. He took a moment to appreciate the flavours of egg and bacon, the sweetness of French toast as he waited for Will to continue. “What he does isn’t art, but neither is it banal - there’s some sort of purpose but I can’t connect with it,”

“A sexual element?”

Will frowned slightly, pushing his eggs around his plate as he tried to slot that particular fragment into the broken pane. Despite how hard he had looked at each of the three previous crime scenes, there was so much he couldn’t see with this one. There were still too many pieces missing for him to know with any certainty.

“Maybe,” Will sighed, the easy mood of his time with Hannibal leaching out of him as he once again found himself examining the case details as if through a thick fog.

Hannibal watched as Will seemed to almost dissolve in to himself, renewed fatigue descending to blanket him like a shroud. It left a sour note in his mouth. Putting down his fork and reaching across the table, he covered the younger man’s hand with his own, lightly stroking the pad of his thumb over his knuckles. That Will was so clearly struggling to empathise in this case was unusual, but something unsurprising given his obvious exhaustion. Jack’s penchant for pushing harder than he had any right to had been grating on Hannibal’s nerves for quite some time and the last week in which he had barely seen Will had more than tried his patience. The man sitting before him seemed far removed from the man he had left in Wolf Trap three days previously. Phone calls and texts were no substitute for his physical presence at Hannibal’s side, giving rise to feelings that the psychiatrist knew he would have to address before too long.

The first time he had publicly killed following his unmasking, hearing Will knowingly and near poetically discuss the reasoning behind his actions with Jack had thrilled him to the core. He had studied the younger man carefully as he spoke, searching for cracks in his demeanour, any hint that facing the reality of his lover was too much, but there’d been none. Not even a note of uncertainty beyond the usual tics that seeing left behind in Will. Later, alone together, the near poeticism from earlier in the day had been transformed in to a very definitely poetic, passionate reflection on the details Will had clearly seen but kept from his colleagues. The private message the Ripper had left just for him. When Hannibal had voiced the thought that Will was coping with the situation in a way far beyond his expectations, the younger man had fixed dark, serious eyes on him.

“I don’t have to like what you do, Hannibal, but I see the beauty in it, I understand your design. I chose you. That means I chose the Ripper too.” 

That Will continued to choose him was a source of light and joy in his life, one that he had quickly become accustomed to and had since come to crave. Hannibal was aware more than most that nothing in life was permanent, transience a naturally occurring phenomenon in mortality, but he couldn’t deny the quiet desire to foster a sense of permanence in his relationship with Will. To care for him, cherish him, fall asleep by his side each night and wake to him each morning. At first it had been somewhat unsettling, but with each day that passed, Hannibal found the perpetuating thoughts of a life with Will ever more appealing.

“You’re tired, Will. You know better than most that like the body, the mind needs rest,”

Will smiled humourlessly.

“Tell that to Jack,”

“I can if you wish,” Hannibal stated, casting a subtly inquisitive glance at the younger man. “As your unofficial therapist, it would be reasonable for me to voice concern to Jack regarding your wellbeing…”

“Yes, because we both know just how reasonable Jack is,” Will came back, sarcasm adding a bite to his words.

Hannibal paused for a long moment, scrutinised the man opposite. Deciding that the opening was appropriate, he consequently selected his words with even more care than usual.

“Then perhaps, once this case is closed, you should consider a break. Perhaps even a short change of scenery,”

Vaguely confused blue eyes studied maroon across the table as Will considered his words in the context of the older man’s tone and carefully measured delivery, and promptly realised what was being suggested. Physically, Will felt his heart thump a little harder in his chest. Mentally, he chastised himself for the rush of equal parts senseless excitement and near irrational anxiety that prompted it, though the two stemmed from very different places. He allowed himself a moment.

“Where would we go?” he asked, bringing his mug to his lips in a vain attempt to distract himself.

The older man traced his fingertips in a delicate, repeating pattern over Will’s wrist.

“Anywhere you wish,” Hannibal replied softly, “Although there are several places in Paris that I would like to show you,”

The significance of that statement made Will’s heart skip a beat.

 

TBC


	8. Hannigram Mating Heat - Omega Hannibal (Mature if not Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter title - does exactly what it says on the tin.
> 
> **Synopses:** An ABO verse fic, in which unusual Alpha Will meets even more unusual Omega Hannibal. They fall in love. They mate. No one dies and everyone is happy.

Will woke to the knowledge that Hannibal was at the apex of his heat. He knew in the same way that a newborn knew to take its first breath, a deep, instinctive response to incomprehensible stimuli. Rationally he was aware that it was a combination of pheromones and proximity, their already numerous couplings in the preceding two days reinforcing biological compatibility. The mechanics of alpha/omega relationships were taught at a simplified level even in kindergarten. What Will hadn’t been aware of was the force of the emotional pull that would accompany coming to on top of his very-soon-to-be mate in that moment. The strength of possession and protectiveness that rushed through him as he unconsciously nuzzled at the back of Hannibal’s neck was so great that for a moment he failed to recognise it as his own. But only for a moment. He had thought it clichéd as he’d sat through sex-ed classes in high school, certain in the notion that it would be something he would never experience. Something that he didn’t have the capacity to experience, at least not first hand. The shame he’d felt at his lack of desire for a mate, at his seemingly faulty biology as he kept his gaze on the floor...it had taken him a long time to realise that, like so many of his emotions, the shame was not his own, rather inference filtered from those around him.

The fierce warmth of heightened alpha instincts was rivalled only by the sharp ache of want centred low in his gut as the man beneath him began to awaken, pulled up from fitful slumber by his own biology. The muscles in Hannibal’s shoulders flexed in response to the warmth of Will’s mouth over the tanned skin, restlessly shifting his hips as the weight of the profiler’s cock, already painfully hard and pressed tantalisingly into the cleft of his ass, registered in his mind. Inhaling deeply, Will picked out the unique scent of the older man’s slick as his body automatically prepared itself to take him, to join them. To be knotted. The low sound that slipped past Will’s lips where they were pressed against his skin was almost, but not quite, a growl.

Just as Will’s biology was in over-drive, so was Hannibal’s, the psychiatrist awake in an instant and arching against the heavy body draped so wonderfully over his own. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, the remaining part of his mind still capable of coherent thought was enthralled by the darkly heated gaze that met his own. Whilst still far from the stereotype of ‘heat-addled’, he couldn’t deny that his omegan instincts were fully in control, that the vast majority of his thoughts were centred solely around satisfying the clawing ache in his belly. Mate. Breed. Alpha. Knot. Hannibal groaned quietly and bucked his hips, unused to the wetness starting to leak down the inside of his thighs but finding it a far from unpleasant experience given the circumstances. He downright revelled in Will’s sharp intake of breath and very definite growl before the younger man pushed up to brace over him on his hands.

“Turn over,”

Will’s voice was rough and low, a tone that Hannibal obeyed without hesitation. His over-sensitised body brushed firmly against Will’s as he turned within the minimal space granted and then settled on his back in the enticing cage of Will’s arms and legs. The younger man wasted no time in lowering himself back down until they were pressed together from groin to chest, heat and scent and anticipation conspiring to leave him breathless as he stared into heavy-lidded maroon eyes. Hannibal brought a hand up to the back of Will’s head to tangle his fingers in soft curls, scraped well-manicured nails over his scalp, the skin of his neck and one shoulder as their lips inevitably met. Hungrily yet still softly at first, brushes of mouths accented by warm breath became the seeking, searching press of lips and tongue, Will opening to the currently still contained urgency of Hannibal’s kiss. With a low moan that Hannibal greedily swallowed he skimmed his palm down the length of the older man’s torso, briefly grasped his hard cock and stroked it twice en route to the place that both men really wanted him. Hannibal did his best to suppress the desperate shudder as fingers slipped behind his balls and danced through the now copious amounts of slick staining his skin but there was no way for it to go unnoticed. The thought didn’t bother him as he had imagined it would. None of the experience had so far and he saw no reason why that would change now. 

Pulling back from where he had been fervently mapping every contour of Will’s mouth, Hannibal arched his back and parted his legs in invitation, spreading himself as wide and as open as he could comfortably go. Coupled with the raw honesty and need in his gaze, the movement was almost Will’s undoing.

**Author's Note:**

>  **If any other Hannibal writers out there with a penchant for Will!hurt/Hannibal!comfort and explicit porn would like to talk to me about my bunnies and perhaps adopt one, _please_ contact me...**
> 
> There is nothing I wouldn't give to see some of these ideas come to fruition.


End file.
